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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24514909">Hockey and Riot, Please!</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maven_Fair/pseuds/Maven_Fair'>Maven_Fair</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>RIP to WIPs [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Check Please! (Webcomic), Rock and Riot (Webcomic)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Crossover, Fluff, Gen, Happy, Happy Dreams Fuel, M/M, One Shot, Romance, bitty and jack aren't even together yet i'm sorry, i'm so sorry lesbains but i never got around to writing connie and martha in, plus it's not finished hahaha, this took me like half a year to write...</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:42:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,256</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24514909</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maven_Fair/pseuds/Maven_Fair</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Rock and Riot! takes place in the 21st century, the Rollers and the Jacquettes are male and female hockey teams, and they all end up going to Samwell because I need them to.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clyde/Gene (Rock and Riot), Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>RIP to WIPs [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771570</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hockey and Riot, Please!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Bittle is going to go crazy preparing for the new freshman,” Jack says one day, as he, Shitty, Lardo, Ransom, and Holster all watch Bitty furiously bake cookies. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(He didn’t think it was possible to speed bake but, then again, Bittle has always surprised him.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Leave him be, just means more people on the team next year,” Shitty says. “More freshman to haze!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t know that someone could make so many cookies at once,” Ransom says as Bitty brings out his fourth batch. The second one isn’t even done cooling, and he’s pretty sure that the first one hasn’t been frosted yet. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You guys are underestimating Bitty’s power. Remember the first day he was here?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean when he baked a pie in the literal first five minutes of being in the Haus?” Lardo asks. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just saying that maybe the Haus is giving Bitty baking powers,” Holster says. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If y’all have time to gossip then you have time to put those cookies in goodie bags,” Bitty chirps from the kitchen. “Those cookies ain’t gonna package themselves.” They all groan goodnaturedly but move to help anyway. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Bitty, you would tell us if the Haus gave you superpowers, right?” grumbles Ransom as he begins to delicately place cookies into bags.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“And why the fuck didn’t the Haus give us superpowers too?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Bro, what if the Haus could give us telepathy?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We wouldn’t need it, bro, we’re already so in sync that telepathy wouldn’t work,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Bro!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I assure you, Ransom, Holster, that the Haus - only five cookies per bag, Shitty - didn’t give me my baking powers. I just came like this.” Bitty gestures dramatically to himself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what I would do if you hadn’t. I can’t remember what life was like without your pie but I don’t ever want to go back to that hellscape,” Shitty sighs, adding a sixth cookie to his bag.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I remember everyone exercising a lot less,” Jack says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jack Zimmermann, was that a joke I heard?” Bitty says as he walks out from the kitchen into where they’re bagging the cookies.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course not,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What kinda baking magic have you used, Bitty?” Shitty jokes, leaning back in his chair. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Bitty, do you think you’ve got enough cookies and pies?” Lardo asks. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I just need to get the rest of the things packed first and we’re ready to go!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How many pies and cookies did you even end up making?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shh. Don’t you worry,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Bitty’s gonna end up smothering the tadpoles in so many pies that they won’t know what hit them until they’re already signing up,” Shitty jokes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And who knows,” Bitty says, sitting down next to Jack. “Maybe we’ll even get some more interesting characters.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, trust me,” Johnson says, suddenly in the living room. “We will.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a sunny morning, the light streaming through the curtains of Gene’s bedroom window in the way that he knows illuminates the soft curves of Gene’s face and makes his freckles look like specks of gold, when Clyde gets the call.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He reaches blindly for the ringing phone on Gene’s bedside table and struggles slightly before pressing answer, eyes still closed. “H’llo?” he says. His voice is raspy and swallows, trying to make is less scratchy. “Frankie, if this is something about the Connie or the Jaquettes, I swear to God - ”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The person on the other side laughs lightly - definitely not Frankie, then - and says “Is this Clyde Jackson?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah? Sorry, who is this?” It’s then that Gene wakes up too and - Wow, Clyde’s woken up beside him before but this is just a whole new level of cuteness. Gene scrunches up his face and rubs his eyes like a baby kitten and god Clyde feels bad for waking him but he’s just so adorable.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My name’s Coach Murray from Samwell University. I’m calling because we really liked what we saw on that tape we sent in,” Clyde’s breath hitches. “And we think that you’d be a real asset to the team next year, so we’d like to offer you a scholarship.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” he says, trying to convince Gene to head back to sleep nonverbally. Gene just scrunches up his face in confusion.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s that?” Gene whispers, reaching across Clyde to grab his glass from the bedside table.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Samwell,” he whispers back, pulling the phone’s receiver away from his face. Gene makes a little “Oh!” noise before biting his lip nervously. Clyde kisses his nose, although he’s worried himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We know this probably comes as a surprise, but we’re willing to offer up almost all of the expenses that come with college, so long as you stay on the hockey team and keep your grades above failing for all four years.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh,” he says eloquently.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You would have to buy your own textbooks, but Samwell has a great financial plan if that’s hard,” Coach Murray continues. “I’ll leave you to think about our offer, but we want you to know that we’d open you with open arms. You should be able to see an email with all of the information. And if it helps, we’ve also invited a few of your other teammates.” The man then hangs up.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god,” Clyde whispers, hand over his mouth. “Oh my god.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Gene asks worriedly. Clyde looks over at him and smiles brightly, giggling slightly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just got a full ride to Samwell University,” he says in disbelief. Gene looks at him blankly for a moment before exclaiming, “Oh my god!” and enveloping him in a hug. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“YOU JUST GOT A FULL RIDE TO SAMWELL!” Gene shouts, hugging him even tighter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I JUST GOT A FULL RIDE TO SAMWELL!” he shouts as well. After they’re done freaking out they both stare into each other's eyes for a minute, before Gene says, </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t believe this,” Gene whispers, eyes crinkling.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The fact that I got a full ride, or the fact that we’d both be able to go?” Clyde asks. Truth be told he couldn’t really believe it either; when Gene had gotten accepted they had both figured that only he would be able to go.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“All the flyers mentioned ‘one in four, maybe more’.” Gene says, setting his head on Clyde’s chest. “Do you really think that that’s true?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, if it is,” he says, resting his head on Gene’s, “then we could probably hold hands and no one would say anything.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We could go on dates and do all those coupley things,” Gene says with a smile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What would you wanna do?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I dunno. Go to a museum, or a planetarium.” Gene ducks his head and blushes. “Sorry, that probably sounds boring.” Clyde smiles and kisses his cheek.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah. We could even bring a picnic basket and eat lunch by the lake,” Clyde says, making eye contact with Gene, who blushes and smiles up at him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Or we could go to a diner and share a milkshake,” Gene says, staring at Clyde’s lips.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“See a movie and cuddle,” He leans in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Kiss under the stars,” Gene whispers. He lifts his hand to sweep away Clyde’s ungelled hair, settling it behind his ear, before closing his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They’re both centimeters away from each other. Clyde closes his eyes as well and cups Gene’s face, moving in closer, closer - </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“DID I HEAR SOMEONE SAY THAT THEY GOT INTO SAMWELL?” Gene’s mom yells, barging into the room. They separate immediately, looking sheepishly away from each other. Clyde coughs, and is suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he’s not wearing a shirt.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah, Ma. Clyde got a full ride into Samwell! Isn’t that awesome?” Clyde laughs, embarrassed, and Gene shoots him a dopey grin.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Gee, we gotta celebrate then! I’ll call your Mom, Clyde, and get your whole family over here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ma, really?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you don’t have to do that - ”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nonsense!” Gene’s mom says, already heading down the hallway. “It’s not every day that two of your kids get into a fancy schmancy school!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Bitty, stop worrying about the flags, they’re not gonna crease,” Shitty says, trying to drag Bitty away from his rechecking of the Samwell care packages. They’re in the parking lot outside Faber, getting ready to greet the class of 2018. He’s only freaking out slightly, since they’d had to rush back to the Haus four times already because of a forgotten this or that.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But what if they do?” Bitty says, dragging his hands along his face. “What if that’s the reason that someone doesn’t join the team?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“They won’t, and if it is then we wouldn’t want them anyway,” Shitty answers. “Also, I don’t think anyone could say no to your baking, regardless of a creased flag,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But what if -- ”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nope! We’re going in!” Shitty yells, startling the girl next to them. She glares at him as she walks away, coffee and laptop clutched closely. Shitty yells “Sorry!” after her, before picking up one of the boxes and all but shoving Bitty into the rink.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning, my lovely little tadpoles!” Bitty says, making his way straight to where the freshman were all congregated. Ah, nervous and still acne-ridden. Was that what he used to look like? “So sorry I’m late! My name is Eric Bittle, the official Samwell Hockey Hospitality representative and unofficial tour guide -- and I brought y’all goodie bags,” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He starts to pass them out, mentioning as he does all of the great things that the hockey team is like as he does. He hopes that he’s not boring them. “Hey, are the goodie bags only for future members?” one of them asks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, no! Do not let me stop any of your family members from taking one,” he says, turning towards the boy, only for his breath to catch. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That one’s a looker,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thinks, taking in the boy’s perfectly gelled hair and dark eyes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” he says, taking another from the pile. He turns as to walk away, but then rounds back and asks, “Say, is Samwell as great as hey make it seem in all the promotional flyers and stuff?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It sure is! Everyone at Samwell was very welcoming when I came and, golly, I sure was nervous! But trust me,” he says, smiling softly, “everything is as accepting as it seems.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right. Uh, thanks again for the goodie bags,” he says again. And, dang, that smile was so dazzling that it could probably be trademarked. “My name’s Clyde, by the way,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Bitty,” he greets, blushing slightly. He gets abruptly pushed out of his reverie when Lardo sends him a sly look. “Uh, we should probably get going on the tour, huh?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure thing,” Clyde says, moving away towards a small ginger-haired boy. Bitty tries to not check him out as he leaves.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sooooo,” Shitty says, sliding up to him after the tour. “Clyde, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, he is handsome,” Lardo says. “You could definitely do worse.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh shut it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude, I can’t believe we’re gonna be on the same team again,” Frankie says, walking up next to him as they change out from their hockey gear. It had definitely been more difficult than high school; Clyde didn’t know that people could do so many suicides at once. “We are so gonna rock this thing,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” Clyde answers. He hopes that Frankie won’t start any more unnecessary rivalries with other people. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, you get a load of the wonder duo over there?” Frankie says, nodding towards where the freshman d-men, Dex and Nursey, were still bickering. The goalie, Chowder, was trying to stop them, futilely.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Clyde says, smirking. “It’s almost like you and Connie,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey! We weren’t even that bad!” Clyde stays silent. “We weren’t!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure.” He echoes. He finishes putting on his shoes and walks out the door, chuckling under his breath as Frankie fumes beside him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I swear we couldn’t have been that bad! At least we didn’t resort to - ” Dex finally storms off, Nursey glaring at where he was.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sexual tension?” Clyde jokes. Frankie glares at him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Jackson! McGallen!” A voice shouts behind them. When they turn they see the d-men wonder duo Holster and Ransom (Clyde’s not sure who’s who, but he’s 99% sure that they’re dating). As their upperclassmen arrive in front of them Clyde and Frankie share a nervous look. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So… ” the one with glasses says, putting his arm on Clyde’s shoulder. The other one puts his arm around Frankie’s shoulder. “A little birdie told me that y’all don’t have hockey nicknames.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah,” Clyde answers, furrowing his eyebrows.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ain’t that just a shame, Ransom?” the one with glasses says. Holster, then.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A true shame, Holster.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re here to change that sad, nickname-less life you live!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve been brainstorming all day - Jackson and McGallen are not the easiest names-  but we’ve come up with a list for you to choose from,” Ransom says. They both lean in, smiling menacingly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bitty walks by and rolls his eyes at their antics. “Y’all should be grateful. I didn’t have a choice in the matter when it came to mine.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, what?” Clyde asks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Our dear Bitty is right! Just take a look at him,” Holster says, ignoring his question as he takes his arm off of Clyde to bound over to Bitty. He puts his arm on Bitty’s head. “He’s just itty bitty,” Bitty glares at him before shrugging off his arm and leaving.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, just look at this table,” Ransome continues, bringing out a printed copy of a sheet of various plays on their last names. Jackie, Sonny, Jacks, Ackson, Jackal, the list goes on. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m actually supposed to - ” </span>
  <em>
    <span>hang out with my friend,</span>
  </em>
  <span> is what he was going to say, before realizing that. He didn’t have to lie here. Samwell preached their “one-in-four, maybe more” slogan. Surely that applied to the hockey team as well? Frankie already knew, but… “I have a date with. My… boyfriend?” Clyde says, dropping off and going up to a pitch he didn’t think he was able to reach near the end. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Holster and Ransom stay silent for a heart-stopping second, before breaking into simultaneous grins. “Dude!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dude!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you so much for telling us you were gay, my man,” Holster says, grinning in a way that’s slightly less conniving. “Feel free to go on your super awesome date with your boyfriend,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, thanks,” Clyde murmurs. Frankie glares at him in betrayal. “And I’m, uh, bi,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And we totally support you,” Ransom says. “Now go get that hot piece of ass!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, Holster and Ransom seem to be in a good mood,” Bitty says, staring as the men in question giggle hysterically once more. He looks down at his plate of half-eaten eggs, bacon, and toast, and feels very, very single.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Goodness, only one week into school and he’s already feeling pity for himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shitty, like the wonderful friend he is, sits down next to him and pats his shoulder. “Apparently one of the frogs came out to them first. They’ve been bragging all day.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, I’m pretty sure he was already out… ” Bitty murmurs, munching on the end of a piece of bacon. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He made the new record for coming out, though,” Shitty says, reaching over to grab a piece of bacon off of the bragging Holster’s plate.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And, you know, we were just talking to him and I guess Ransom and I are just so approachable that he - Hey! Shitty!” Holster lunges for the bacon, shaking the table. Bitty quickly lifts his plate of food (eggs, toast, bacon - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jack would be proud,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bitty thinks sarcastically) and his cup of milk off the table, carefully looking out for spills as Holster and Shitty continue to shake the table. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Say,” Ransom says, “McGallan. Did our dear old Jackal come back to his dorm last night?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Bitty feels his heart sink even more. He knows that he should be supportive of a teammate who was out, but he still can’t help but be a bit disappointed that Clyde wasn’t out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhh,” Frankie stutters, avoiding the d-men’s eyes. “I don’t know? I mean, we don’t share a dorm, so… ”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can tell you,” Nursey pipes up, smirking slightly and holding up a piece of toast for dramatic effect, “that he didn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ohhhhhhh,” Holster and Ransom yell in unison. “Jackal’s really got some game, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn, if I was that hot in freshman year I don’t know how many more chicks I would’ve gotten,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve always been hot, bro,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Bro!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Bro!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And what about you, Frankie? Where were you last night?” Chowder asks. Ransom and Holster stop their mutual compliment back-and-forth to turn to Frankie.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“OH?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>“OH?”</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie glares at Chowder, who seems to realize what he’d just done. “Oh! Uh, sorry… I didn’t know you were trying to keep that a secret… ”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Frankie sighed. “Nah, it’s fine,” Bitty feels his heart grow heavy as he contemplates the fact that his underclassmen seemed to have better chances at love than he ever did. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Puking on your dates shoes doesn’t really count as a meet-cute, huh?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Holster, Ranson,” Jack calls, suddenly appearing behind them. On his tray is a large amount of protein-heavy foods - nearly twice as much food as Bitty’s tray had - which makes Bitty snicker under his breath. Jack raises an eyebrow at him, a silent </span>
  <em>
    <span>What’s so funny?</span>
  </em>
  <span> before continuing. “If you have time to tease the freshmen you have time to eat. First practice is this afternoon, and you’ll be needing your food.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, you never do anything really bad for first practice,” Holster says.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Try me.” Jack replies. Holster and Ransom look at each other, a silent conversation going between them, before they both nod.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re saved this time, McGallen,” Ransom says. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But don’t think you’re safe,” Holster threatens. “We have eyes everywhere.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Spies in who you think you can trust,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And before you know it, we’ll be there when you least expect it,”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Holster. Ransom.” Jack says. The men in question pick up their trays to leave, eyes never leaving Frankie. Jack sighs. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry about that, Frankie,” Bitty says, offering a piece of bacon as a peace offering. Frankie takes it, nibbling softly. “I swear they mean well. They just don’t, uh… ”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t know how to show it without being over-the-top?” Frankie says, sliding down on the bench. “Yeah, I figured. Don’t worry, it’s not like a… secret, or anything.” Frankie coughs. “I mean, I’m not, like, in the closet.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s good! Really good!” Bitty squeaks. God, where was Shitty when you needed him… “Uh, if you need, I can tell Holster and Ransom to tone it down,” he offers. Frankie smiles gratefully at him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. I mean, just because we’re not a secret doesn’t really mean we’re shouting it out to the world, you know? Back home it was really only our friend group that knew, so… ”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I get that,” Bitty says. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But do I really?</span>
  </em>
  <span> he asks himself. After all, back home, he was the only one who knew. Well, he and his 200 baking blog followers… “Just know that Samwell doesn’t just flaunt their LGBTQ+ support, they actually follow up on it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, Bitty,” Frankie says, looking a bit happier than when the breakfast started. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No problem,” Bitty says, knocking his shoulder against his in what he thinks is a sign of comradery. They eat in comfortable silence for a few moments, before it’s ruined by Shitty loudly making his way onto the table. Literally, onto the table, disrupting a lot of people's plates, as well as the dishes spread out on it. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’m so sorry for the abrupt chapter end, this has been sitting in my WIPs for… half a year. I will most likely never make the second part of this, but I really wish I had the motivation to. Now that Check, Please! has ended, I felt as though I had to post this. Rock and Riot! and Check, Please! have both done so much for me to accept who I am. </p>
<p>As the world is beginning to wake up and make a change, that also means hard things are being brought to light. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, I hope this brightened your day at least a little! </p>
<p>Thanks for reading.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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